SD: I love short stories, especially those by Bradbury,
Asimov and Hemmingway. They are like mini masterpieces.

JJ: Do you listen to music when you write? If so, what
band(s) do you play?

SD: I write best in a silent room, which is very difficult
to do in a small apartment with my wife, our two dogs and our cat.

JJ: Tell us some more about yourself including your website
and where we can find you on social media sites:

SD: I was a copywriter for TV Guide magazine for 14 years.
My first novel, AmandaRio, was published in 2004. It has
received critical acclaim from reviewers for Amazon.com and thebestreviews.com.
I currently reside in Bucks County,
PA with my wife, Dawn. I love
football, and I am a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan.

Amy Sutter tightened her grip on
the yoke as she stared at the monitor on the console. Sixteen oval-shaped,
purple objects dotted the screen. She took a deep breath, targeted one of the
alien ships and fired her first missile. The enemy craft exploded and created a
fireball that destroyed the ship beside it. Amy smiled and wiped some sweat
from her forehead. The other ships began firing missiles at her as she turned
the Liberty Bell to the right and dove hard toward the surface of the planet
below. A proximity alarm sounded behind her as the missiles flew over the top
of her ship. Amy then pulled back hard on the yoke and lined up her next shot.

She waited until the enemy fleet
got closer before she fired the laser cannons mounted on the outside of her
150-foot long spacecraft. She obliterated two more vessels before the Liberty
Bell took a direct hit of laserfire on the portside wing. The shielding held
but the concussion of the blow caused Amy to smack her head against the
console. Thankful she was wearing a helmet, Amy shook off the momentary
dizziness and tried to line up another shot. Before she could, three more laser
blasts wiped out her cannons. Two more blasts caused another alarm to blare.
Amy looked at the console and saw that her life support systems were failing.
However, her engines were still online. She sent out a distress call as the
enemy ships started to surround her. She then steered the ship away from the
fleet and initiated the Sprint
Drive system. The Liberty Bell bolted through a
gap in the enemy’s formation and the crafts disappeared from the ship’s radar
as they fell far behind the spaceship.

Amy let out a sigh and quickly
searched the digital maps for a suitable planet to land on. Before she could
find one, the Liberty Bell began to violently shake. The temperature inside the
cabin shot up. Before she should shut down the Sprint Drive, Amy heard a loud explosion
behind her. Then all of her instruments stopped working and the cabin grew
dark.

The exasperated pilot unbuckled her
safety belt and flipped a switch on a side panel. The door over her head opened
and the twelve-year-old girl climbed out of the simulator and down a ladder to
the concrete floor. She took off her helmet and looked at her reflection in a
small window on the simulator. She brushed back a lock of her dark brown hair
and saw a welt forming over her right eye. Amy shook her head and smiled at her
clumsiness. “Serves you right for sneaking in there,” said a voice behind her.
Amy turned around and saw Lt. Yale Brown marching toward her. The officer had a
clipboard in her hand and a relaxed look on her face.

Amy shrugged. “I got four of them
this time,” she said. “Then the Sprint
Drive exploded as I was getting away.” She handed
the helmet to the lieutenant and walked with her toward the equipment storage
room. Around them other pilots were training for various missions, while
security officers stood guard at the building’s four entrances. Amy glanced at
the busy soldiers and noticed their tense expressions.

“You can’t trust that engine,” said
Yale. “They haven’t perfected it yet.” At 5’10”, the twenty-eight-year old
woman towered over her young friend. Yale’s frame was lean and strong as a
result of her military training and her short blonde hair fit neatly under her
green cap. She wore a camouflage shirt and matching pants, standard issue for
Union soldiers, and no makeup. Her light green eyes had a tendency to change
colors in differently lighted rooms.

They reached the door to the
storage room and Yale unlocked it by running a blue key card with a magnetic
strip along a black keypad. Amy followed the lieutenant into the room and
watched Yale tuck the helmet on a shelf next to other flight gear. Then she
turned to face Amy. “Should I even bother asking how you got into the machine?”
she asked. She put her hands on her hips and smiled.

Amy reached into her pocket and
pulled out another blue key card with a magnetic strip. She waved it in front
of Yale’s face. “Just got to have the right tools,” she said. Yale glared at
her and yanked the card out of the girl’s hand. The lieutenant stuffed the card
in her shirt pocket and pointed to storage room door. “I’m going, I’m going,”
said Amy. The girl tiptoed past her friend and watched the lieutenant lock the
door.

Yale chastised the guards on duty for letting Amy slip past
them, before she handed another officer the clipboard. Then she escorted the
girl out of the facility and they walked side-by-side toward the adolescent’s
living quarters.

The crisp morning air was a
delightful change from the normally arid atmosphere on Paldor, a small hot
planet just outside the Milky Way. The Sutter family resided in building 400, in
one of the more elegant homes in the 23 square-mile Pioneer Settlement.

A fighter jet flew overhead. Amy
squinted at the tail markings for Earth’s Union Defense Fleet. She thought
about their ongoing war against the Crownaxians, an alien species that no surviving
human has ever seen. The highly intelligent warriors attacked a human
settlement on the planet Blaros. More than 3 million people were killed in the
attack and eight years later the human death toll had skyrocketed past 29
million, with no end in sight.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Hey folks. Today I'm switching things up and interviewing a children's book author who I think is a wonderful person and I'm excited to say will be releasing her Ericka the Puppy series through Visionary Press (who have picked up my children's books as well as Bob the Zombie) also. Without further ado I present Chasity Conley.

Interview questions:

JJ: When did you start writing?

CC: I started writing when I was around 11 years old.

JJ: What was the first story you remember writing?

CC: The first story I remember writing was called
"Ella". It was about a young girl that lost her way home because she
didn't listen.

JJ: What genre is your most preferred?

CC: The genre I prefer most is children's stories.

JJ: What challenges you the most in your writing?

CC: What challenges me the most is trying to decide on names
for my characters.

JJ: What is your favorite thing about being an author?

CC: My favorite thing about being an author is getting
to create new characters and bringing them to life.

JJ: What do you like least about being an author?

CC: The least thing I like is not
having enough time in the day to write.

JJ: How many books do you currently have available?

CC: I have written 3 children's books( Ericka The Puppy
series) and a poetry book.

JJ: What projects are you currently working on?

CC: I'm currently working on the next 2 books in the Ericka
series.

JJ: Do you have any books coming out soon?

CC: I hope to have my books available soon.

JJ: Which book, or series, is your favorite?

CC: Harry Potter is my favorite book series.

JJ: Who are some of your favorite authors?

CC: Some of my favorite authors are J.K Rowling, JRR Tolkien, J.D
Salinger and many more.

JJ: Which book(s) inspire you the most?

CC: The books that inspire me the most are the ones written
to help children deal with life issues.

JJ: Do you listen to music when you write? If so, what
band(s) do you play?

CC: I don't listen to music when I write. I require silence
in order to write.

JJ: Tell us some more about yourself including your website
and where we can find you on social media sites:

CC: I grew up in a family of 4 brothers and 3 sisters. All 3
of my sisters write poetry. All of my brothers, except one, draw. I'm the only
one that does both. I've always loved writing, but mostly just focused on
poetry. I wrote the Ericka The Puppy series last year for my 2 year old
daughter, who is biracial. I wanted her to be able to understand issues she is
sure to have in the future. She enjoys the books a lot!

Monday, January 20, 2014

Hey, folks. Today I get the pleasure of interviewing the very kind and talented Timothy C. Hobbs. Sit back and relax as you learn everything you wanted to know about him, or rather everything I wanted to know.

JJ:
When did you start writing?

TCH: I
started writing in the sixth grade after reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula for the first time.

JJ: What was the first story you remember writing?

TCH: After
reading Dracula. I wrote a short
story entitled The Vampire ofEngland. The vampire’s name was Alucard,
which is Dracula backwards. More imitative than original, but it started my
love of writing.

JJ: What genre is your most preferred?

TCH: Horror
and supernatural.

JJ: What challenges you the most in your writing?

TCH: Finishing
the project. I have so many half or partial completed works it makes me crazy.

JJ: What is your favorite thing about being an author?

TCH: Bringing
my characters to life and allowing them to meld with the landscapes I’ve thrown
them in.

JJ: What do you like least about being an author?

TCH: Editing.
Probably the most important aspect of writing, but the least enjoyable.

JJ: How many books do you currently have available?

TCH: I have four novels, Veils, The Pumpkin Seed, Music Box Sonata, andMaiden Fair, one novella, The
Smell of Ginger, and one short story collection, Mothertrucker and Other Stories.

JJ: What projects are you currently working on?

TCH: I
am editing a second collection of short stories, researching my next Once Upon
a Time in Texas
fairy tale reimagining, and working on a werewolf novel I started back in the
late 1990’s.

JJ: Do you have any books coming out soon?

TCH: I
have a collection of flash and short fiction, In the Blink of a Wicked Eye, due out this year from Sirens Call
Publications, and a novel, Down in the
Hollow There, to be published November 2014 by Angelic Knight Press.

JJ: Which book, or series, is your favorite?

TCH: My
favorite horror novel is The Werewolf of
Paris by Guy Endore.

JJ: Who are some of your favorite authors?

TCH: Guy
Endore

Richard
Matheson

Ray
Bradbury

Charles
Beaumont

Robert
Bloch

Anne
Rice

Bram
Stoker

Robert
Aikman

Ernest
Hemingway

William
Faulkner

W. Somerset Maugham

Vladimir
Nabokov

Sherman Alexie

Thomas
Hardy

Joseph
Conrad

JJ: Which book(s) inspire you the most?

TCH: Dracula, Interview With
the Vampire, The Werewolf of Paris, and The Modern Library’s Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural edited by Phyllis Cerf
Wagner and Herbert Wise, originally published in 1944. The latter being what I
consider the handbook for any budding or seasoned writer of horror and the
supernatural.

JJ: Do you listen to music when you write? If so, what band(s) do you play?

TCH: I sometimes listen to moody classical
music, but most of the time I like silence around me.

JJ: Any hobbies?

TCH: Abstract
and impressionistic painting. I also sing 50’s and 60’s rock and roll.

JJ: Tell us some more about yourself including your website and where we can find
you on social media sites:

TCH: I
don’t have a blog, but I am on Twitter, Visionary Press’ blog, and I have an
author’s page at Amazon.com. My Twitter address is TimothyHobbs@TimothyHobbs8.

JJ: Care to share a bit of one of your books with us?

TCH: I’d
love to. Here is an excerpt form my novel The
Pumpkin Seed. The scene begins after Dr. Charles Russell has been bitten by
his future vampire mentor Dr. Peter Lockley.

* * * *

I awoke to a strange bubbling noise. The pain in my head and

neck was excruciating. I was no longer restrained and could
move my arms and legs. I stirred slowly as any attempt to reposition myself
resulted in more pain.

I had been placed, ironically enough, in a blood donor
chair.

Through nausea, I raised my head. Around me was a large
laboratory. Lined against the walls were rows of aquarium tanks. It was the
constant murmur of their water pumps I had heard before. The dim light in the
room came from the bulbs inside the tanks. And there was something else in
them.

I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. In the
semidarkness, it appeared that each tank held two to three developing human
embryos.

“Your eyes do not deceive you, Dr. Russell.” Lockley’s voice

came from the darkness. “What you see is very real.” He
walked out of the shadows and stood in front of one of the tanks. “Don’t they
look delicious?” he asked, tapping on the glass and pointing like a gourmet
peering at a prospective lobster.

A strange urge rushed through me. For a dreadful instant,
they did look luscious, so much so that I drooled.

My body shook and a flood of repulsion swept over me as I

realized I wanted to eat those things in the tanks. I tried
to speak but my throat was sore and swollen. I touched it with my hand and felt
a gash surrounded by puffy tissue from the bite. I managed to whisper, “What is
happening to me?”

Lockley turned from the tank and smiled, the light from the

aquarium reflecting on his slightly prominent canines. He
knew I had seen his teeth. “That’s right,” he said, his smile fading.

I tried to respond but a strong spasm seized my larynx. The
agony of it was so intense I thought I would pass out again. I lay my head back
and fought the spinning motion of vertigo.

“It would be better for you to remain silent,” Lockley said.
“The

swelling in your throat is from the virus I introduced into
your system. It is a cousin to the Rabies strain but not a killer. In fact, it
is more of a resurrector.”

Virus? Rabies? What had this bastard done to me?

He approached and I made an attempt to turn my head away
from him. He grabbed my face before I could, forcing me to look directly into
his.

“You’ve been here for three days. That might be hard to
believe, but it is a fact,” he said and released his hold. Too exhausted and
ill to resist I could only gaze at him. He seemed pleased at my weakened state
and actually patted my hand. “A captive audience,” he almost laughed. “How
nice.”

Lockley moved to the tanks and stood with his back to me. He

clasped his hands in contemplation behind him. “I spared you
for two reasons,” he said. “One is Maria. It’s not love in the sense you
understand it, but you will learn soon enough what she desires. The other is
something I sensed when I was drinking from you.” He turned and licked his
lips. “By the way, your blood was exquisite. It has been ages since I have
feasted on the blood of such a healthy young male as you, Dr.

Russell.”

His words made my body tingle with pain. I had the perverse

notion I wanted him to drink from me again. The sounds in
the room became exaggerated. His voice and the bubbling tanks assaulted my
eardrums. When I opened my eyes, the dim room light had turned into a blinding
sun. All my sensations – smell, touch, hearing, sight, and taste - were
exaggerated. I thrashed in the chair and my body shook violently.

Calm descended when I stopped breathing. My diaphragm would
not move. My lungs screamed for air. I was dying.

I could feel what urine and feces remained in my body soil
my

underwear. I sensed myself fading away with Lockley’s voice.

Then, oblivion swallowed me.

* * *

When I awoke, I was in my bed at home.

I felt wretched. Every muscle screamed with protest when I

moved. My mouth was dry and raw. My head hurt beyond reason.

The sun was just setting, and a purple twilight extended
pastel

fingers through the partially opened bedroom blinds.

I had been stripped of my clothing. My body was hot and

clammy. I craved water to soothe the dryness in my throat.
Gingerly, I got out of bed and made my way toward the bathroom. As I passed the
dresser mirror, I gasped at the reflection confronting me. My hair had grown in
length and was a mass of tangles. When I reached to touch it, I saw long
fingernails that curled like animal claws. To avoid scratching my skin, I
carefully parted the hair away from my face and was relieved to find my
features haggard but unchanged. I thought it odd that I had no beard. With the
abundance of hair on my head, I had expected to find a grisly face. The
smoothness

made it appear as if I had just shaved.

I then did what anyone would reflexively do when looking in
a mirror – I smiled. My upper canines were missing. What remained in their
place were black gaping holes. I moved my tongue over and around the empty
sockets and felt protrusions of new teeth working their way in.

The tips were sharp and rigid. The moment I touched them the
gums around the developing teeth began to ache.

A parched throat, still mad for a drink of water, moved me
away from the mirror toward the bathroom. I felt unusually light as I walked.
Examining my body, I found the paunch around my waist had disappeared. Indeed,
all the body muscles were tight against me like I possessed no residual fat.

Just as I was about to walk through the bathroom door, I
slipped on something wet and sticky. A horrid stench made my stomach roll and
my eyes water. To the side of the door was a silhouette of something on the
floor. I flicked on the bathroom light to see through the falling gloom of evening.
The decaying body of a large pig lay on the floor in front of me.

The animal’s body was ravaged with bite marks. Around the
room were piles of dried feces and crystallized splotches of urine the pig had
expelled trying to escape.

Fighting the odor, I moved closer for a better look at the
carcass. I turned the head toward me and was met with a glassy condemning stare
from the wide eyes. As I ran my fingers around the neck, I felt something stuck
under the bloated skin and removed what looked like two thorny

objects. When I examined them closer, a feeling of despair
and revulsion overwhelmed me.

They were not thorns.

They were my missing teeth.

I just made it to the toilet before vomiting a large mass of
clotted blood. Dizziness struck me. I hugged the toilet afraid I would fly into
space. As swiftly as it had arrived, the spinning sensation abated, and, like a
dog, I consumed the blood I had vomited. It was a reflex action. No thought of
the repulsive act occurred to me. My body needed nourishment and could not
afford to have the undigested mass flushed away.

When I had finished, I scrambled back to the bedroom. The
stink was no longer abhorrent. It was enticing and luxurious. I fell on the
corpse and gorged myself. Rotten juices and tissue gas exploded into my
searching mouth. My lips and chin were sticky with gore. I tore and ate until I
lay swollen by the dead animal. Then, I slipped into a sated dreamless sleep.

JJ: I'd like to thank Timothy for answering these questions and giving us such a fantastic excerpt. I can't wait to read more. If you'd like to read more of his work you can click on either of the pictures to be taken to the Amazon page for them or you can view his Amazon Author Page by clicking HERE.